ed up the wreck and throttled down, dropping the nose to a
shallow glide in order to maintain flying speed. As the Cub passed the
old tower, he looked curiously. He couldn't imagine what had attracted
Scotty's interest. The thing was only a steel framework, red with
rust. Not even the top platform was left.

Off Seaford, he banked out to sea again.

"See enough?"

Scotty dropped the binoculars to his lap. "I saw bright metal on the
lowest cross girder. I couldn't tell much, but it looked like a deep
scratch. And some of the rust had been flaked off around the spot,
too. I could tell because it was a redder color than the rest."

Rick thought it over. "I can't make anything out of that," he said
finally. "What's your guess?"

Scotty shrugged. "I don't have one. But it's a cinch someone has been
up there, and within the past couple of days, too. Raw metal rusts
fast right over the sea like that, and this spot was bright enough to
attract my attention. Maybe we'd better have a closer look from the
ground."

"It wouldn't hurt," Rick agreed. "Well, what now?"

"Might as well go home," Scotty said. "We can take it easy until after
dinner, and then go to Whiteside, pick up those cards from Duke and
get the car from Gus."

They had been flying steadily north. A moment later Spindrift loomed
on the horizon. Rick saw the gray lab building and, to its left,
Pirate's Field where the rocket launcher had once stood. He waited
until the Cub was abreast of the old oak on the mainland that he used
as a landmark, then cut the throttle. The plane lost altitude rapidly,
passed a few feet over the radar antenna on the lab building and
settled to the grass strip. Rick gunned the tail around and rolled to
the parking place.

They staked down the Cub and walked through the orchard to the house.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Brant was rolling out piecrust. She smiled at the
boys. "Been riding?"

"We went out to watch the fishing fleet," Rick said, "then swung down
over Seaford for another look at that wrecked trawler. What kind of
pie, Mom?"

"Butterscotch."

Scotty smacked his lips. "We should have waited a little while, then
we could have had a sample when we got in."

"No samples," Mrs. Brant said. "It would spoil your supper."

"Not mine," Scotty replied. "Nothing spoils my supper. Got any
doughnuts handy, Mom?"

Mrs. Brant sighed. "In the stone crock. And there's milk in the
refrigerator. But only one doughnut!"

"Only one,"